I thought about these things as I made my way to the home improvement store.  There were a lot of cars on the road, and many of the ones I saw had a lot of belongings in them.

Turning onto the major road, I was stunned at the amount of traffic.  At this time of day, there should not have been the hundreds of cars I saw.  I joined the southbound lane and noticed that the northbound lane was heading south as well.  Everyone was heading south.  I began to wonder what the hell had happened to the city, and whether or not my brother was safe. Every business along the road was closed, and I seriously doubted I was going to find any store open. As I slowly passed a parking lot, I saw two men arguing over a water jug, and just as they passed out of my line of sight, I saw one man take a swing at the other man’s head.  People were going nuts.

I pulled off the main road into the drive of the home improvement store, and I immediately saw it was the wrong thing to do.  The store was a madhouse, with people rushing in and rushing out, grabbing supplies from each other and racing off without tying down their loads.  There was no way I was bringing Jacob into that mess, even being armed as I was.  I had forgotten to take off my gun when I went out, so my SIG was still with me, under my coat.  I pulled out of the parking lot, narrowly missing an elderly woman rushing out with what looked like fifty feet of heavy chain.  Weird.

I headed west to a street that would take me to a road back north, and it was packed as well.  It took me twenty-five minutes to go two miles, and everyone was on edge.  I decided to get off the main road, head through the subdivisions, and get home that way.  I wound my way through the first subdivision, noting once again the signs of hurried leaving.  Jake was starting to act up, not liking being in his car seat for any length of time.  I reached around, trying to find his binky, and managed to poke him in the eye while I searched.  Naturally, he hated that, and let me know it.  Good set of lungs on that little guy.  I looked back and found his binky between his legs, so I grabbed it and placed it in his mouth.

WHAM!  The car jerked and slid sideways, and I fought to control the vehicle as I brought it to a stop.  I checked my rear view mirror and saw a body lying in the road.  Oh God. Oh God, No, no, no, no, no…not good at all.  I got out of the car and ran back to the body, a middle-aged man who was lying on his face in the street.  “Help!” I yelled, hoping someone in the houses would hear me.  “Somebody call 911!”  I yelled to the unresponsive houses.  I kneeled down and turned the man over, hoping he was still alive.  I immediately stepped back, as the man had a gaping hole where his throat used to be.  His shirt was covered in dried blood, and his face had dried blood all around the mouth.  His eyes were closed, as if he was sleeping, and his left leg looked broken at the ankle.  What the hell was this? Did I run over a dead body in the road?  If I had, how the hell could he be there without any police or ambulance? I started to walk back to the car, and I saw another man approaching the vehicle from the passenger side.  I shouted at him.

“Hey!  Hey, buddy!”  He looked at me and starting walking toward me, his eyes fixed on me.  Something wasn’t right.  He opened his mouth, and instead of saying hi, he let out this hideous groan, like he was in serious pain.  I stepped back and he raised his hands toward me, as if he wanted to grab me.  I backed up and placed my hand on my gun.  “Hey, pal, you better back off.  What’s the matter with you?”

The man didn’t answer; he just let out another groan, and lunged for me.  I backed up and drew my gun, hoping the sight of the weapon would stop the guy.  I circled to the left away from the car and the guy never even acknowledged the gun.  He followed my movements and I could see his nose flaring, as if he could smell me.  For a brief second, my mind flashed to the old man I had watched tear apart his caretaker.

I raised the gun and tried one more time. “Mister, if you do not stop, I will shoot you.”  I was nearly shouting at this time.

No response.  He just kept coming.  I thought for a second just to wound him, but nobody can shoot like that.  I lined up his chest in my sights and pulled the trigger.

The shot seemed unnaturally loud in the subdivision, and struck the man squarely in the chest.  The .40 caliber slug knocked him backwards and onto his back.  Exhaling heavily, my breath caught as I watched in horror while the man slowly scrambled to his feet and came at me again.

Thinking I must have hit something in his clothes that stopped the bullet, I took careful aim this time at his chest and fired another round.  The man staggered backwards a few steps, but managed to stay on his feet.  I could see the holes in his shirt, and they were both centered on his heart.  No blood came out, nothing.  It was as if the man was already dead, but how the hell could he be walking around?  I heard another groan as the man came at me for a third time.  I raised my aim and fired a shot that entered his right eye, exploding brains and dark matter out the back of his head.  The man dropped instantly and was still.  My brain spun for a moment.  A noise snapped me out of my reverie, and I looked up in time to see the man I had initially hit with my car, shuffling up to me.  He moved slowly, and I could see his foot was broken as he dragged it along the ground.  His leg bone clicked as it hit the ground in his advance.  A rasping gargle came out of his ruined throat as he reached for me with one hand, the other hanging loosely at his side.

I didn’t waste time with any more body shots.  I centered my sights on his face and fired once, the bullet smashing through his nasal cavity and erupting out the back of his head.  The man’s head snapped impossibly far back, largely due to the fact that he was missing half his throat.  Overbalanced, the man fell straight back like a tree falling and smacked onto the road.

I took a step back, holstered my gun, and looked around me.  Two men were down, killed by my gun, but were they killed by me?  Or were they already dead?  Ordinarily, that would be a crazy thought, but I had just seen for myself a man rise after being hit by a car and having his throat torn open.  Did the virus do this?  Were all those people who were reported as “comatose” actually dead and coming back to life?   Way too many questions and this was not the place to think about it.  I could see other people starting to come from houses and around buildings, attracted to the noise I made.  By the way they were walking, and the groans I was starting to hear, no one living came to investigate, which I think scared me worse than anything else.  Was this whole area just dead?  I needed to get out of here and get home.  I turned back to the car just in time to see a teenager clawing at the back window, trying to get in at Jacob.  Jacob was screaming at the noise I had made, and his screams must have attracted this nightmare.  The teen was grayish in color and his face was ripped up.  One of his cheeks was torn open, giving him a horrific leer.  That face was pressed against the back window, and I could see the teeth working, wanting to get in and tear at Jake’s tender skin.

Something in me snapped.  I ran over behind the teen, grabbing him by the scruff of his neck and the belt that held up his sagging pants.  I screamed “NO!” as I bodily lifted the teen and slammed him down head first into the pavement.  His head cracked and dark fluid began leaking out.  I didn’t wait to see if he was dead.  I drew my gun again and fired eight shots rapidly into his head, splattering brains, bone, and everything else all over the road.  Bullets skipped off as they ricocheted off the road.  The slide on my gun locked open, indicating an empty gun, and still I pulled on the trigger.  I was breathing heavily, and couldn’t see very well.  I heard noises around me, but nothing registered.  I didn’t want this thing dead; I wanted it destroyed.